CHAPTER 36
SECOND CHANCES
Lidia
I wake up before the world begins to stir and long before the sun breaks through the curtains.
The rays of light trace golden lines across the wall, glide over the bed, and end up caressing our intertwined bodies.
I blink slowly, with that sweet laziness of someone who doesn’t quite want to let go of sleep just yet. And the first thing I feel is Barbara.
The warmth of her body pressed against mine envelops me and shields me from everything that exists outside of this, outside of us.
The gentle weight of her arm rests on my waist, and her calm, steady breath brushes against the skin of my back with every exhale.
I close my eyes for a few seconds because I want to stay right there, in this exact moment where everything seems to fit together perfectly.
At this point where there are no doubts, no questions, nothing beyond this room, these rumpled sheets, and her skin against mine.
Here, in this bubble, everything is fine. Everything is in its place.
Though that doesn’t overshadow the feeling I carry inside me, that knot in my stomach and that small crack that’s been slowly widening for several days.
I take a deep breath, turn around, and stay there, taking in everything around me.
The morning light glides over Barbara’s bare back, highlighting every curve, every line, every little mole I already know by heart.
I feel like something is slipping through my fingers, something that doesn’t fit, that I don’t understand…
Something that has to do with everything that’s happening, I think.
I don’t know how much time passes, but suddenly she moves and half-opens her eyes to lock her gaze with mine.
“What are you doing awake so early?” she murmurs in a hoarse voice, still heavy with sleep. Her hand moves lightly over my skin, a lazy brush that travels down my waist and makes my heart skip a beat in my chest.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I reply softly, almost in a whisper, so as not to completely break the stillness of the room.
“Mmm…” she protests, moving a little closer, tangling her legs with mine until her nose brushes my chest. “Well, try again, come on. It’s still very early.”
I smile, but it’s a faint, almost invisible smile, the kind that doesn’t reach my eyes.
“I have to get up,” I add softly. “My dad wanted to have breakfast with me this morning. You know how nervous he is about the party he organized for tonight.”
“Betrayal,” Barbara whispers, still half-asleep, in that playful tone that always manages to make me laugh, even when I don’t want to. “And here I was hoping to enjoy you a little longer…”
I can’t help but let out a small chuckle that breaks the tension I’ve been building up. The sound hangs between us like a light note played on a piano.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” I say before leaning in and giving her lips a little kiss.
“You’d better…” she replies, settling back into the sheets with a satisfied sigh.
Within seconds, she falls back asleep, breathing deeply and peacefully.
I watch her for a moment longer, taking in the way her eyelashes rest on her cheeks and how her chest rises and falls calmly.
I’d love to stay here for hours, just watching her, enjoying her presence and the scent of her on my skin.
But today, of all days, it’s impossible.
Besides, having breakfast with my father will give me a little peace… even if I can’t shake this unease.
I get up slowly. I gather my clothes from the floor bit by bit, head into the bathroom, and after a quick shower, I step out of the bungalow.
The morning air fills my lungs completely—fresh and heavy with the scent of the sea, salt, and that calm that seems to envelop the entire resort but doesn’t even touch me.
I hesitate between continuing on or taking a few minutes to enjoy the beautiful sunrise before my eyes, but it’s my stomach that guides me this time.
The restaurant is already bustling. Guests are trickling in, greeting one another and filling the space with soft conversation and muffled laughter.
The first guests for my father’s wedding have begun to arrive, and you can feel it in the atmosphere: in the energy, in the smiles, in those greetings from afar, in that sense that something important is about to happen.
“Daughter!” My father’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
I look up and there he is, sitting at a table by the terrace, with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and that smile of his that always makes me feel at home, as if nothing bad could happen while he’s around. I smile genuinely this time and walk toward him.
“Good morning, Dad.”
“Come here,” he says, standing up to greet me.
He hugs me tightly, as if he wants to pour all the love he has for me into that gesture.
We sit across from each other. For a few seconds we don’t speak; we just look at each other in silence.
I don’t need to look into his eyes to know that he’s noticed everything—in my face, in my eyes, in how stiff my shoulders are, or in that sad look I’m trying to hide behind sunglasses that protect me from the light, but not from his ability to know when something’s wrong with me.
“Well…” he says, resting his elbows on the table. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or are you going to keep it to yourself like you always do?”
I sigh and look down. My fingers fiddle with the cloth napkin, folding and unfolding it aimlessly.
“Nothing’s wrong, Dad,” I reply, trying to make my voice sound light and carefree. “I just miss Jota… and my usual routines too. You know how I am.”
He doesn’t move, nor does he say anything, and that silence is a bad sign, because it means he doesn’t believe a word coming out of my mouth.
“You may not live with me anymore,” he says finally, “but I can still tell when something’s really bothering you, daughter. Tell me about it. Don’t leave me out.”
I press my lips together because he’s right.
He’s always right. And I can’t hide from him the way I do from the rest of the world.
Looking back, after my divorce from Barbara, I hid behind my own armor and didn’t let anyone else break through it.
I thought that was the only way I could survive, but over the years I’ve learned that letting go helps you heal.
I look up and then I give in, because with him I always end up giving in, because right now he’s the only one I can talk to without that constant feeling of screwing up with every choice I make.
“I feel like something’s happening with Barbara,” I confess in a low voice. “And if I’m being honest… I don’t know if I’m ready to watch all this happiness I feel crumble and turn into a nightmare I don’t know if I’ll be able to escape.”
My father looks at me and takes his time answering. I know Barbara is very important to him, that after so much time together—between dating and marriage—he’s grown very fond of her. But I can’t carry all this uncertainty on my own.
“Are you sure about that?” he asks gently. “You know I love Barbara as if she were my own daughter, but you’ve been apart for a while… you’ve lived years away from each other, and even though everything has been fine, in the end… people change over time, and maybe you and she…”
“Everything’s fine between us, Dad,” I cut him off quickly, because I don’t want to hear it.
I don’t want him doubting what we have. “Seriously. When we’re together, everything seems normal, everything’s just like before…
but these last few days she’s been… kind of distant.
Like her mind is somewhere else and she doesn’t know how to come back. ”
I take a deep breath and swallow, trying to ease the lump in my throat a little.
“And I’m worried that she won’t tell me what’s going on. That she’s keeping it all to herself,” I explain. “It’s not the first time this has happened.”
My father nods slowly, as if fitting each piece of the puzzle together in his mind and understanding more than I’m even able to express.
“Do you want me to talk to her?” he offers without hesitation.
For a moment, the idea doesn’t seem far-fetched. Having my father pry would be easy, comfortable; it would lift that weight off my shoulders and maybe give me answers to the questions currently eating me alive inside. But no, I have to be the one to find out what’s going on.
“No.”
He frowns slightly, worried.
“Lidia…”
“No, really,” I insist, looking him in the eyes. “I don’t want her to feel pressured. If something’s wrong, I want her to be the one to tell me. When she’s ready. Even if the wait is killing me.”
“Okay…” he finally agrees, though it’s clear he’s not entirely convinced. “But don’t shut yourself off either, okay? Don’t keep all this bottled up inside.”
I nod because I know he’s right. Even though that doesn’t make it any easier to carry this uncertainty that follows me everywhere.
We remain silent for a few more seconds, until the atmosphere gradually shifts and we begin talking about lighter topics: how nervous he is about the wedding, some of his friends who have arrived on the island and with whom he’s creating unforgettable memories, Miriam and the effort she’s put into making it a dream wedding for both of them, and what’s planned for tonight.
For a while, everything seems normal. The conversation flows, the laughter comes naturally, and the tension I’ve been carrying inside eases a little, though it doesn’t disappear entirely.
When we get up from the table, my father hugs me and holds me close affectionately.
“No matter what happens…” he says in a firm, calm voice, “you’re going to be okay. And I’ll be here, always.”
I look at him and smile, but inside I’m not so sure. Not this time. I lean toward him and give him a soft kiss on the cheek, breathing in that familiar scent of aftershave and home.
“I love you, Dad.”
“And I love you, daughter. Very much.”
I step away from him and walk toward the restaurant exit.
The sun is already higher in the sky, and the beach glistens in the intense morning light.
The sea looks peaceful, almost calm, with its gentle waves breaking against the shore.
So I decide to walk aimlessly, letting my feet carry me.
As I walk, there’s only one thing I can’t get out of my head: the fear that something is about to break between us.
I wish I could say I’ll be able to handle it.
But I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to watch what we’ve built crack apart until it shatters into pieces.
Because Barbara is my everything—she always has been, and even though I’ve kept it hidden, she always will be.
And the thought of losing her again terrifies me in a way I can’t put into words.
I keep walking, the sea breeze ruffling my hair and my heart pounding hard in my chest. Every step on the sand reminds me that time keeps moving forward, that the wedding is approaching, and that, no matter what happens, I’ll have to face whatever is going on.
Because I don’t want to run away. I don’t want to pretend everything is fine when I know it isn’t.
I want to face it, to understand it. And, above all, I want Barbara to trust me enough to tell me about it.
Even if that means my world will be shaken for a while.
Even if it means I have to rebuild us all over again.
Because if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that I’m not willing to lose her without a fight.
Not after everything we’ve been through.
Not after finding in her the home I’ve needed for so long and haven’t found in anyone else.